


Meet-Cute In A Ditch

by die_traumerei



Series: Bike Girls [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Human, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Broken Bones, Comfort, F/F, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Injury, Meet-Cute, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Aziraphale takes a header into a ditch. Crowley hauls her out. They fall in love. That's it, that's the story.(Originally written for Whumptober 2020)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Bike Girls [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997386
Comments: 15
Kudos: 116





	Meet-Cute In A Ditch

**Author's Note:**

> Just splitting these out so they can be their own series!
> 
> CW: bike accident, broken bones, the word ‘fat’ used as a neutral, then negative descriptor. (Then a positive one. Very veeeery positive!)

Aziraphale growled as her bike's front wheel wobbled a little more. She was _going_ to get this! Bloody bike that had spent too long in her shed, bloody roads, bloody _everything!_ The bicycle was big and heavy but also beautiful, and she didn't drive and the bus service in Tadfield was _dreadful_ , and oh yes also her girlfriend had dumped her last night and said horrible things so maybe if she could be a little more active and lose some weight...

Gabrielle still wouldn't want her. But Aziraphale could show _her!_ She'd watched several YouTube videos and changed the inner tubes and inflated them properly and she was going to get her stupid bike and go someplace fun!

She pedaled faster, huffing and puffing and absolutely sure she looked an enormous tit, but there was no one around to see, so did it really matter? It did not. Besides, except for the sweat and the puffing and everything, she looked a bit cute. Smart, certainly, in skirted leggings and a pretty top with a ditsy flower print and her hair braided back under her helmet.

Faster, faster, she was really flying now! Take _that_ Gabrielle!

Crowley slammed on the brakes as she watched the gorgeous woman coming up the road hit a rut and go flying over her handlebars into a ditch. “Jesus Christ!” She just about remembered to put on the hazards and jumped out, running over to peer down. Oh, poor thing; she'd landed in a stream and was covered in green gunk. At least she was conscious, groaning and rolling over.

“You all right?” Crowley called. Maybe she'd had a soft landing?

Oh no. Oh _no_.

She was _pretty_. She was so pretty, curvy and chubby and with an angel's face, her little upturned nose, and no matter that she was soaked and covered in gunk.

“Oh bugger _everything_ ,” she grumbled, and Crowley's heart fell out of her vagina and a good couple hundred feet through the earth, because here were _all of her dreams come true_. A grumpy little angel, tossed into a ditch right in front of her.

Right. Now was not the time to fall in love, now was the time to help the poor thing. “Easy,” she called, and scrambled down. “Easy, easy, you really took a spill there.”

The other woman gave her an uneven smile. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Name's Crowley. I was just rounding that curve when I saw you go flying. Poor thing, you ate it. Are you all right? Should I call 999?”

The angel shook her head and sat up, and groaned again, a pained little sound. “Oh, ow. I think...my wrist hurts. It's nothing though, you don't have to...”

“Right, you,” Crowley said. “Into the car, I'm taking you to A&E. That wrist needs x-raying and I want someone to check you for concussion. Helmet or no.”

“You're being ridiculous,” the woman protested, but she groaned again when Crowley helped her up.

“Probably, I usually am. Oi, you know my name, what's yours?”

“Aziraphale,” she said, as Crowley helped her up out of the ditch. “Oh, my bicycle...”

“Is in better shape than you are,” Crowley said after a quick check. “I know bikes, although good grief, this was sold as a velocipede. You know they make 'em out of aluminium now, they don't have to weight four stone?”

“It's _vintage_ ,” Aziraphale said. “And would one of your aluminium pretties survive heaving a great fat bird into the air?”

Crowley threw her head back and laughed. “All right, point. I've snapped a frame or two in my time. Right, lass, into the car with you, you poor thing. I'll put this on the rack and then it's A&E for you.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said softly, when Crowley slipped in behind the wheel. “I don't...I'm sorry, I'm a mess.” She sniffled. “My girlfriend broke up with me last night and I'm new to Tadfield and I don't know... I'm sorry.” She rubbed the material of her skirt between her fingers, twisting it. _Not unlike how she was twisting Crowley's heart._ It was terrible. Crowley just... _oh_. Oh, she was _stimming_ to comfort herself, this poor gorgeous angel.

Crowley wondered if she liked flowers. Roses? She seemed like a lady who like roses. Great. Grand. Crowley was going to cover her in roses until she smiled and felt safe. Somehow.

“...you can just drop me off at the hospital,” Aziraphale said softly, her fingers manipulating the fabric, the same pattern over and over, the repetition a still point of relief. It would hurt too much to twist her hands, and this calmed something inside her even better, even if was annoying to other people.

“Hey, hey.” Crowley touched her shoulder. “I will not _just drop you off_. I'm worried about you. And I've not got anything on this afternoon.” She smiled. “I'm new to Tadfield too. Let's get you seen to, all right? And then I'll drive you home, so you don't have to worry about that at least.”

Aziraphale smiled tremulously at her. “You're so very kind. Oh, thank you. You have no idea.”

“Aw, I'm just doing what anyone would do,” Crowley muttered, before putting the car in gear and aiming for the nearest hospital. She _was_ really worried about Aziraphale, and also was not doing a celebratory joyride upon learning that the beauty next to her was both single and dated women.

That would be _gauche_. And Crowley was never gauche. Well, hardly ever.

They made record time, as Crowley had intended, and she gently herded Aziraphale into the waiting room, grateful it was a warm day so she wasn't too cold from her dunking. She filled out the necessary forms while Aziraphale cradled her arm to her stomach, soft voice telling her everything that needed to be written down, and they settled back to wait.

Not for long, at least. It was off to x-rays, and then someone who gave her a series of tests to check for concussion, and someone else who wanted to x-ray her neck to be sure nothing had been damaged after she admitted she was a little sore and Crowley attempted to not have a screaming breakdown that Aziraphale's _neck was hurt_ and she _had not mentioned this_.

Good news and bad; a broken wrist, but no surgery needed. A sore neck, but nothing seriously damaged there, and it was off to yet another room to wait, Aziraphale quiet now while her wrist was set and a nurse wrapped it in a heavy bandage and splint, settled her in a sling, and put a soft collar around her neck.

“Come back in three days and if the swelling's down, we'll give you a hard cast for the next few weeks, then you'll be right as rain,” she said cheerfully, and Aziraphale even managed a weak smile.

“I'll give you a ride then, too,” Crowley said softly. “I, um. My schedule's flexible. Just say the word, okay Aziraphale? The bus service out here is awful.” And nonexistent – Aziraphale would have to ride to about a mile away and walk the rest of it which was _not_ something she looked up to.

“I can't ask you...yes, Crowley.” Aziraphale's smile grew stronger. “Thank you. I owe you a cake. Um, once I'm better.”

Crowley winked at her, and decided to shoot her shot. “You can let me take you out to dinner. Don't even have to wait for your wrist to heal for that.”

The nurse coughed loudly. “I'll just, ah, put you down for 2 pm on Tuesday?”

Aziraphale gave Crowley an odd look. “Of course, thank you.”

“Right,” the nurse said, gave Crowley a _very_ meaningful look, and scampered.

Crowley was going to send her whole floor pizza for a _week_. What a mensch. The NHS was truly the pride of Britain.

“Hey,” Crowley said gently. “You don't have to. That's not a condition for giving you a ride home. Or a ride on Tuesday. I mean that, Aziraphale.”

“No, no. I, um, want to.” Aziraphale blushed, eyes downcast. Stupid neck brace, she couldn't even look down properly, or hide, or...well, it wasn't exactly keeping her from curling up and crying, but still. “I just. Are you sure you want to?”

“Really deeply completely and utterly sure,” Crowley said. “ _Believe me_.”

“But why?” Aziraphale asked. “I'm nothing but trouble. And I'm not...you're _beautiful_. I'm not.”

“Who the _fuck_ taught you that?” Crowley demanded, and sighed. “I mean, aside from the entire Western beauty industrial complex?”

Aziraphale had to laugh. “Well. That. Crowley, I'm fat and out of shape and autistic and plain. It's okay. I have, um, a good personality?”

“Oh, my _angel_ ,” Crowley whispered. “Where do I begin? Yes. Yes you're funny and scathing. You have a wonderful personality. I can't wait to get to know you better. You're fat and beautiful. The one doesn't rule out the other. You're so beautiful _like this_ , I'm going to be useless when you're not covered in ditchwater. Um.” Crowley smiled shyly. “And look, I've never been diagnosed but I'm...probably autistic too? Somewhere on the spectrum? I dunno, it's all confusing to me. But I get it. I saw you stimming. It's okay. I really promise you, it's okay.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale's face lit up. “I – then yes. I would love to have dinner with you.” She laughed, leaning back against the bed with a little groan. “Maybe not tonight, I'm afraid.”

“Maybe not for a few days,” Crowley agreed. “You poor thing, you've been through it. Let's get you sprung, okay? I'll take you home and you can get dry and not ditch-water-y, and take some drugs and feel better.”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “I know I should say something sappy like 'I already do', but frankly my neck hurts and my wrist _really_ hurts and will you stop by the pharmacy on the way?”

Crowley laughed, and promised she would, gently helping Aziraphale out of bed, through being discharged, and got her settled in the Bentley.

She meant to just drop her off, really. It would be silly to linger too long; Aziraphale might get sick of her. But, well. It was so easy to go in and help her clean up a little, and get her settled in her bed once she was changed, and then run out and get fish and chips for both of them. And then run out again to get a little overnight bag for herself, so she could sleep on Aziraphale's sofa, just in case she needed something.

They did, _technically_ spend a night apart after that. Crowley went home at some point to shower and change clothes and have a meltdown because she'd pulled the best girl in the whole wide world out of a ditch. But she was back the next day to drive Aziraphale back to the hospital where she got a bright pink cast and ditched the neck brace. They changed it up a little by celebrating with a curry and spending the night at Crowley's, where no one slept on anyone's sofa.

Aziraphale woke up, disoriented for a moment, then the world fell back into place. She was in Crowley's huge bed. She couldn't move her arm because it was in a cast from fingers to elbow. And she rolled over, and right into her brand-new girlfriend's arms, Crowley sleepy and mumbly and too sweet for words. She wrapped her arms gently around Aziraphale and kissed her before she herself was even properly awake, one hand coming up to cradle her neck protectively, the other so nice and tight, holding her very close.

“Sleep okay?” she asked, when she could open her eyes. They were gorgeous eyes, a brown so light and golden they were almost yellow, and Aziraphale thought they were the prettiest she'd ever seen.

“Perfectly,” she said, and kissed Crowley again, and gave a happy little wiggle, which made Crowley laugh with joy, which made Aziraphale wiggle again, and not stop for a little while. It was okay, though. Crowley just held her and egged her on, and covered her face in kisses, and when she was done there, gently curled her fingers around Aziraphale's and kissed her cast, right over where her wrist was broken. Old, old magic, that – kiss something to heal it. Well, it was working.

One Year Later

“Yeah, I'm here with my girlfriend,” Crowley said, leaning over her handlebars as the riders staged. “Just over there, with the vintage Raleigh.”

“Holy shit, what a gorgeous bike,” the girl said, eyes going wide. “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” Crowley agreed. “It's a beaut to work on. Zira! Babydoll, come over here, there's someone else that appreciates antiques!”

“ _Really_ now,” Aziraphale huffed, but she also rode the few meters over, greeting the girl with a smile. “Hullo. Is this your first time here?”

She nodded, smiling shyly. “Yeah. My name's Asha.”

“Aziraphale. And that's Crowley. You'll love it,” she promised. “Group rides are great anyway, but there's a lot of queer energy here that just _makes_ it,” she said, laughing.

“How, um, fast is it?” Asha asked shyly. “Also, can I look at your gearing?”

“Social pace, and we don't drop anyone, ever,” Aziraphale said firmly. “Crowley and I are riding sweep today. No matter how slow you are, one of us'll always be with you if you need it. And yes, of course!” She hopped off and Crowley held onto Asha's bike so the two women could crouch down, and Aziraphale could show off.

“It's a really sweet old thing,” she said, and looked up, smiling at Crowley like the sun rising. “Funny story, it's actually how we met.”

“Awwww,” Asha said. “Was it at a group ride?”

“No,” Aziraphale said, still with that sunshine smile. “Let me tell you the story, it's quite something...”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! 
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


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